


Ray of Sunshine

by aquileaofthelonelymountain



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Fluff, Comfort, First Kiss, Hurt and comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Thilbo, bagginshield, post-botfa au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6295150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquileaofthelonelymountain/pseuds/aquileaofthelonelymountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events up on Ravenhill and the hours at Thorin's sickbed have left their impact on Bilbo. He struggles with what he had to experience, especially with the icy cold he remembers feeling on Ravenhill. Thorin tries to make him forget his anxieties and to show him that there's still warmth left in the world... Bagginshield fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ray of Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Bagginshield fic. I've been in the hobbit fandom for a long time, but not actually in the Bagginshield fandom ... I recently slipped here: I don't know how it actually happened, but I am here and I definitely love it! ;) So enjoy some fluff - and if you do, maybe you consider leaving a comment? I'd love to hear your opinion!

„Is that you, Master Baggins?“

The sound of the familiar voice let Bilbo stop. It was so dark he could hardly see anything – in fact, he had only managed the way out of his chamber and on through the corridors of Erebor by constantly keeping one hand at the wall. He had thought to be silent, but it seemed that he had caused some noise nonetheless.

“I’m sorry, Thorin”, he answered into the darkness after some hesitation. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Don’t worry.” He heard some rustling, then came a sudden flash and enlightened the darkness. The door to Thorin’s chamber, one of the rooms in Erebor that had hastily been cleaned and made habitable, stood open, candle light radiating through the door frame like an invitation – a promise of warmth and security. “I wasn’t able to sleep anyway.”

“Is that so?” Bilbo entered the room with a smirk on a face. It took him some effort to keep it, for it was too easy to tell that the chamber was actually a sickroom. The air seemed heavy with bitter herbs, sweat, and blood. There was a darkness looming above that the single candle could not banish. It had been there for too long.

Thorin was half sitting up in the bed, putting the candle on the table beside. His movements were slow and cautious, and he sank back into the pillows right afterwards. He was pale, and Bilbo could see shadows under his eyes. At least they were shimmering in their usual captivating blue, not in that fading shade – as if concealed by fog – Bilbo remembered seeing them … up there, in the midst of snow and cold.

“I was sure you would be fast asleep”, he said while trying to look at the bandages that were visible under the dwarf’s shirt collar without openly staring at them. Another bandage concealed the cut on his forehead. “After all you didn’t have a single moment of peace today, did you?”

“I guess not”, Thorin answered wryly. For someone who had just regained consciousness after fighting an almost fatal injury for many, many days he seemed incredibly well.

It had only been that day, in the early hours of the morning, that he had opened his eyes for the first time. Five days – had it really been five days? It seemed like a much longer time in Bilbo’s memory – Thorin had fought against his wound and the fever, sometimes rolling from one side of the bed to the other and murmuring, sometimes not moving at all, but lying like … well, lying like dead. But he had never opened his eyes, not even for a single moment. His unexpected, but dearly hoped for waking up had sent a great relief over the whole mountain.

Oin, who had watched over his king’s condition down to the last detail, had tried to keep the number of visitors – and the hustle and bustle that came with them – at a reasonable level. His task had been rather hopeless, however. The whole company had been too worried about their leader to be kept out. Fili and Kili, hardly out of their own sickbeds, had been constantly around their uncle, chattering and laughing all the time and simply being relieved. Balin and Dwalin had come at once, of course, the elder dwarf barely able to conceal his emotions, the other having tears in his eyes as well, though trying to play it down. Nori, Dori and Ori had paid Thorin a visit, not really knowing what they should say, but staying and keeping his company nonetheless. And Bifur, Bofur and Bombur had been there, Bifur and Bombur being talkative as Bilbo had never witnessed during their whole journey. Gloin had insisted on visiting as well – his brother was allowed to stay at the king’s side, after all, so why should he keep out of the room? There had been quite a merry-making the whole day.

And Bilbo?

He had spent hours over hours at Thorin’s sickbed during the last days and nights. And long these hours had been! He had tried to sit down quietly, he had marched from one side of the room to the other, he had just stood there, staring vacantly into space, being unable to grasp a single proper thought. He could hardly remember anything clearly. There were only these long hours, so endlessly long hours, full of cold and darkness.

His head was still dizzy with the thought that the time of sitting and waiting, begging and cursing, hoping and despairing should have ended now. It had been a rather baffling feeling that had made him think that he wasn’t prepared yet to go to see Thorin, now that the dwarf was finally awake. Of course he had checked on Thorin, making sure that he was really awake and well, but it had been a rather short visit. They hadn’t even exchanged a word – Fili and Kili, happy as they were, had already demanded their uncle’s full attention. But Bilbo and Thorin had shared a look, a slight nod, and that had been enough. At least for the moment. Bilbo had quietly slipped out of the room, wandering around Erebor as if walking in a dream. Still not being able to grasp a proper thought, by the way. He wasn’t sure what had brought him out of his own room at this late hour, either.

“Will you sit with me for a while? Maybe there won’t be a quiet moment for the two of us to speak during the next day as well.”

The hobbit came a step closer and sat down on the same chair he had sat on the days and nights before. He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. _Why do I suddenly feel so uneasy? Everything’s okay. He woke up. No need to worry anymore. But alas, he still looks so … vulnerable._

He wasn’t used to such a sight at all. A bruised and battered Thorin, okay – but looking like this? The bandage that concealed the deep cut on his forehead, the bandages, hiding an almost fatal injury, peeking out of the neckline of his shirt … At least the blood was gone. _Dear me, so much blood. So much blood all over the ice …_

“How are you feeling?”

The sudden question startled Bilbo and made the vision of bloodstained snow disappear. “I-I’m sorry?”

Thorin tilted his head and looked at him inquiringly. “I was asking how you are feeling. Balin told me you got injured during the battle. You aren’t in pain anymore, are you?”

The hobbit shook his head. “Only some cuts and bruises. I’m okay.”

To his surprise, Thorin’s face seemed to grow a bit paler, and his eyes seemed to lose some of their brightness. Was it a trick played on Bilbo by the flickering candle-light? Or had the efforts of the day been too much for the dwarf? If he had been overexerting himself –

“Did _I_ hurt you?”

The question staggered Bilbo, but he was particularly taken aback at the voice in which it was said – so soft, almost faint … as if Thorin was afraid of the answer. He swallowed. He could tell from the look on the dwarf’s face that he _was_ afraid of the answer.

“Thorin”, he began, not really knowing what to say. That moment at the front gate, the ramparts … It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Before he could answer anything, Thorin burst out, now a bit louder, but still not able to fully control the fear in his voice: “I am so sorry, Bilbo. I know that an apology cannot make up for what I almost did … what I’ve _done_ to you. Words are so … so insufficient, but I am serious about every single one. If there is anything I can do to prove to you that –“

“Thorin!”, Bilbo interrupted with a yell, holding his hands up as if to stop the flood of words with such a gesture. “Stop that. You don’t need to ask my forgiveness.”

 _I am so sorry that I led you into such a peril._ Snow scrunching under his knees. White snow, white ice, grey mist. The only colour on Ravenhill had been red. Blood red.

“We got that over and done with, don’t you remember? Don’t you remember what I told you, Thorin? I’m glad to have shared in your perils. Moreover, you have overcome the sickness. The Thorin who would do … such things doesn’t exist anymore. You are yourself again, the dwarf I met back at Bag-End. You don’t need to apologize anymore or try to make up for anything. It’s okay.”

A silence fell. Then, an almost inaudible response: “Your eyes. They tell me something different.”

Bilbo felt a lump in his throat. Snow, ice, and the cold everywhere. Why had it been so cold on Ravenhill? That hadn’t been the cold of some ordinary winter’s day, it had hurt physically. The memory made Bilbo shiver, and the light of the candle lost all its brightness. There it was again, the darkness. And the cold. Always the cold.

_I wish to part from you in friendship. To part from you … To part from you …_

His heart. Even his heart had turned into an icy lump. Could there ever be warmth or even sunshine in a world that could turn your heart into ice?

The coldness returned, crawling up his spine, but aiming its strength with cruel precision at his heart.

_Farewell, master burglar._

________________________________

 

Thorin could see the change on Bilbo’s face: His expression had become blank before turning anxious. Now he bit his lips, his breath had gotten faster, and his eyes – these dark eyes Thorin thought would be the last thing he would ever see … They were clouded, yet shimmering with unshed tears. Bilbo looked so small, so vulnerable at that moment, it made his heart ache.

He could hardly look at the hobbit. There were things that could not be mended by using just words, there were deeds that could not be taken back. What was he thinking? He had almost killed Bilbo in his madness! There was no way to whitewash or excuse that. He had seen the sadness in Bilbo’s eyes as soon as the hobbit had entered the chamber. How could anybody forget such a thing?

The memory made Thorin’s face burn with shame. He could have never imagined to do Bilbo any harm, but in that moment – the Arkenstone in the hand of the men of Lake-Town, the mad fury roaring in his head, the painful feeling of being betrayed, not by anyone, but by Bilbo of all people … He did not know what he could have done if Gandalf hadn’t appeared. Would he really have hurt Bilbo? Killed him? The thought frightened him. And if he was afraid of himself, how could he expect Bilbo to forgive him? Forgiveness! Such a treacherous hope –

“I thought you would die.” Bilbo’s voice was barely more than a whisper. Thorin quickly sat up, suppressing a groan as he felt a sharp pain in his side. Bilbo’s face was still blank, his eyes clouded. “Up there on Ravenhill – I was sure you would die.”

Thorin could not answer. Yes, he had thought the same. He had been sure that he was going to die on Ravenhill. But he had felt strangely okay with that. After all, he had had the chance to tell Bilbo how sorry he was for what he had done. That had been the most important thing. Although he had longed to tell him more. How happy he was that the hobbit with his bright eyes and his smile like sunshine was with him in his last moments. How he wished he could see the tree that would grow of Bilbo’s little acorn. How he wished he had earlier admitted to himself that –

Another whisper interrupted his thoughts. “I was sure you would die and leave me in an icy world.”

Thorin felt a lump in his throat at this words. That was the reason for the sadness in Bilbo’s eyes? Bilbo wasn’t afraid of him – he had feared _for_ him? After all what he had done? He could not help but smile. That gentle soul …

“Bilbo”, he said, trying to sound encouragingly. But the hobbit seemed not to hear him at all and looked straight through him. Kept imprisoned by his memories, he still muttered: “It was so cold when you bid me your farewell … There can’t be sunshine in such a world, or warmth …” He could no longer blink back the tears, some of them finally found their way down his cheeks. “Farewell, master burglar. I-I was convinced –”

“Bilbo”, Thorin tried again, this time more emphatically. He bent forwards and took Bilbo’s hands between his. The hobbit’s hands were small, almost delicate between his own that were used to forging hammer and sword. Bilbo’s seemed more suitable to wielding quills, maybe to doing some gardening. But he could also tell that Bilbo had learned to fight. The long journey had left its traces.

“Do you feel it, Bilbo?”, Thorin asked softly. “My hands aren’t cold. They are warm.”

Eventually the hobbit recalled that he wasn’t alone or up on Ravenhill. He still looked startled, but his eyes moved to their intertwined hands and back to Thorin’s face, actually seeing what was in front of them. “But up there …”, he mumbled absentmindedly.

“That doesn’t matter anymore. Here and now, my hands are warm. You know what that means, don’t you?” Thorin squeezed Bilbo’s hands insistently, but nonetheless gently. “I am okay. I am alive. There is no need to feel cold anymore. It has passed.”

Bilbo looked down on their hands, eyes widened as if he was marvelling at something he had never seen before. He lifted his hands slightly – Thorin’s hands followed the movement – to examine them closer. The next moment, he had thrown himself into Thorin’s arms.

Thorin could hardly tell what had happened. Suddenly his hands were empty, and Bilbo was clinging to him, his face buried at the dwarf’s shoulder. Thorin’s shirt wasn’t very helpful in muffling his sobs, and nothing could hide the fact that the hobbit was trembling. The first thing Thorin felt was a pang of helplessness, but it was only a moment of hesitation. He enfolded Bilbo in his arms and drew him closer, trying to comfort him with just being close.

 _Poor soul_ , he thought as he caressed Bilbo’s back. _It must have been terrible for you on Ravenhill, left all alone in the cold … And the last days haven’t been easy either, hm? At my sickbed, not knowing if I would survive or not … I’m so sorry you had to go through this, Bilbo._

Lost in thought, he ran his hand through Bilbo’s hair. Thorin bowed his head to inhale the scent of the golden-brown curls. It made him think of green hills, of whispering little streams, of a gentle breeze. Even after such a long journey, the hobbit still smelled like the Shire. Like home and warmth. If Erebor would smell like this one day …?

“Hush, hush”, Thorin tried to sooth Bilbo. “It’s over. Don’t worry anymore. It isn’t cold anymore. The darkness is passing. You can feel that, don’t you? Everything’s okay now.” He kept telling such vanities in a low voice, not knowing what else he could say.

His pointless chattering did really help, Bilbo calmed down indeed. He wasn’t trembling anymore, and his sobs ceased as well. After some moments he managed to straighten himself and brought a little distance between him and Thorin, just enough so that he could look into the dwarf’s eyes. His own eyes were still shimmering with tears, but he blinked them back. But there was also an expression in them that tugged at Thorin’s heartstrings. He still looked so forlorn.

Then, Bilbo spoke, and his voice was tight with emotion. “Just promise me this, Thorin: Don’t ever let me feel like this again. Please, Thorin.” His voice became unsteady, and the tears ran over his cheeks again. “I’m begging you.”

Without wasting a thought on what he was about to do, Thorin bent slightly down and placed his lips on the corner of Bilbo’s eye to kiss the tears away. _To kiss the pain away._ Bilbo’s skin felt wet and heated under his lips, and the tears had left a salty taste. He lingered on this soft spot for a few heartbeats, then followed the trail of tears across his cheek to the jawbone before withdrawing.

It was only in the moment he saw Bilbo’s stunned face that Thorin realized what he had just done. He had _kissed_ him! The realization made him turn red. What had he been thinking? It hadn’t even been a brief touch, as if trying to kiss a child’s pain away! What Bilbo must think of him in this moment! He could hardly –

All his self-reproaches vanished into thin air as Bilbo smiled.

It was only a tiny one, a very shy one, but it made his beautiful eyes shine. Bilbo’s whole face brightened as he put out his hand to touch Thorin’s face, carefully touching the bandage on the dwarf’s forehead. Thorin flinched at first, but it was a mere jerk. Bilbo’s small, warm hobbit hand didn’t hurt him. Instead, its touch made his heart beat faster. It slid over his temple, down to his cheek and came to a stop there. Thorin felt quite overwhelmed: the hand on his cheek, the thumb now gently caressing his skin; the beaming eyes and the wonderfully shy smile in front of him; the scent of green hills and warmth …

“I’ll take that as a promise”, Bilbo said quietly and kissed Thorin.

It was a tender touch, as shy as the little smile that had lightened up Bilbo’s face. It was very captivating nonetheless and didn’t miss its impact on Thorin: He felt dizzy and heated, and his heart … It was almost too much, and yet … yet not enough. He answered it gently as he clasped Bilbo in his arms. _How is it possible that you of all people should ever feel cold?_ , a part of him mused. _You, who feel like sunshine in my arms. The purest, most beautiful ray of sunshine._

They let go of each other, breathless although the kiss had only lasted for a few heartbeats. Thorin looked at Bilbo’s face, now beaming with joy. _Sunshine indeed._ He felt as if he could burst with joy any moment. But he reminded himself that there was one thing left to be done – one thing that he had thought about on Ravenhill, regretting that there shouldn’t be any time left to say this.

 

________________________________

 

Bilbo was smitten with Thorin’s smile. It warmed his heart and made his cheeks burn, it was safety, comfort … home. It made him forget the cold.

Suddenly, the fond look in the blue eyes got serious. He placed his hand over Bilbo’s that was still on his cheek, squeezing it gently. He reached out his other hand, grazing the hobbit’s cheek. “Bilbo”, he said with all his soul in his voice, “I love you.”

Bilbo looked at him, needing some moment to actually understand what Thorin had just told him. “You …?”, he barely managed. Thorin nodded and gave him an encouraging smile, and finally Bilbo understood. With a laugh, he snuggled up to Thorin. “That’s … _amrâlimê_ in your language, isn’t it? Thorin, _amrâlimê_ ”, he said happily, feeling the soft pressure of Thorin’s hands on his back, moving slowly upwards and raking his fingers softly through Bilbo’s locks.

“ _Amrâlimê_ indeed”, Thorin answered quietly and placed a kiss on Bilbo’s forehead.

The hobbit closed his eyes, revelling in Thorin’s warmth that surrounded him. He could hear the dwarf’s heart beating, its rhythm in accordance with his own. _As if belonging together._ The even sound was like a lullaby and made him sleepy.

“Bilbo?”, Thorin asked softly, his voice vibrating in his chest and adding to the pleasant mixture of sounds that was lulling the hobbit into the sleep.

“Hm?”, he made sleepily.

“What do you think of staying … with me?”

Despite his drowsiness, Bilbo gave a chuckle. “What do you mean? Are you talking about tonight, or are you planning in the longer term?”

Thorin sank back in the pillows, still holding Bilbo in his arms. “Well, I won’t let you go now, as you can guess … But about the second possibility …”

“I think”, Bilbo interrupted him and shifted so that he wouldn’t do any harm to his injury, “that it sounds very, very reasonable.” He smiled as he nestled up to Thorin. “Staying with you sounds very reasonable indeed … _amrâlimê_.”


End file.
